The Inspiring Maiden Of The Sky - Poem by Debashish Sarkar
Thou the inspiring maiden of the sky,
Wash thy dale with thine silvery rays,
As thou fade when dawns daunting eye;
Shines at ease over the full sway.
But thou reign in silent hours,
When earth dreams in heaven's bower;
Floating, swirling in the cozy cover;
Of heavy fumes of vernal showers.
Thy face is the youthful lover's delight,
Flooding and soothing the vivid languor;
Of the soul that struggles - deprived of light,
Will be imbued with thy harmonious vigor.
The buzz which now fills the air,
Faints the image of the poet's mirror;
Thou art spreads, grows and roars,
Projects love-woven earthen-core.
The stagnant pool with thy ethereal touch,
Winks at thou and softly pants,
Transcending strained raptures to thee and watch,
Leaning its ear to the chirping chants.
When thy light floods the valley glades,
Beholding the night's steadfast laws;
As the aerial wings run forming waves,
Motion thy arrows, sweeping the ghostly flaws.
We the earthlings nest on earth,
Pining for time and for name,
Thou, who stand free from fears,
That we share in our melancholic games.
The rain-soaked dell thick with pain,
Vibrating vapors to thy realm;
Of hatred, loss, laughter and pain,
To touch the cold, but to feel the warmth.
None shall weave to dethrone thy rule,
As thou shine breeding new,
Nights and eves-and thy temper-cool;
Over flowing heaven and surpassing through,
Every ethereal sphere that guard the gates,
Of the holy realm - the almighty's throne,
Far from those who trust in HIM;
And fully opaque to the infidels home.
The fumy sky of autumnal days,
When thou float to and fro;
In the blinking sea with half-hidden rays,
Patiently waiting for the spring to grow.
The paleness of a windy day,
When the whole world stays unrest;
Thou melt in blue-and lover's pray,
Drenched by shower to vision thy face.
And when in woods he walks alone,
Guided by thine silvery rays,
From the bent arches it went and shone;
Igniting his kin's golden face.
Thou glow like a virgin sprouted flower,
Kissed by the showers to see the bloom;
Even its core is meant for the thieves;
Will steal her spores - to fetch the gloom.
Thou stand gentle keenly apart,
Thou shade hold a maternal embrace;
Can thou express, what thou art?
A lonely poet in distress.
Thy answers to his half queries-
Will give the bard a delightful rest.
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